Driven, motivated, insane
by OMG-Orlaith
Summary: "Do you mind slipping your hand into my pocket one more time?"    Lauren, confused by Jim Moriarty, decides to try get some answers. Jim is fascinated by the young Scotland Yard employee, and gives her a certain number as he leaves.       *Work in progres


"Leaving so quickly?"

His voice is a drawl, and he speaks in almost a whisper, as if to allow the words time to sink in. I look towards the door, and back to him. His cell door is still unlocked, which means I could get out or call for help, if the need were to arise. I let him continue.

"At least you seem a little less unbearably stupid than the rest of them." He appears to be talking more to himself than to me. "Boring, they're boring, every last one. They'll let any fool into Scotland Yard these days." I narrow my eyes slightly. I have to admit; I'm confused. What is he talking about, and why is he talking to me?

This man has confused me since he first arrived. He didn't explain any of his crimes, didn't give a reasonable answer any questions. Our top interrogator only got nonsense from him. He didn't deny anything, yet he didn't take responsibility. He looked amused when he was alone, indifferent in company. Yet he had a strange look when I was in the room. Fascination? Curiosity? I still have no idea, but this man unnerves me. Scares everyone here. This man that I am having near casual conversation with. Jim Moriarty.

I open my mouth and then close it quickly. Moriarty is still surveying me, looking tranquil and relaxed as he leans against the wall.

"You're different, though. Definitely. I can tell."

He's trying to get into my mind, like they told me he would. He looks me up and down, his eyes flickering mischievously. I take a step back.

"I can't hurt you." This takes me aback.

"What do you mean?" I ask shakily. I can't help noticing that these are the first words that I've spoken to him. He stands up, and spreads out his arms, almost defensively. He strolls over to the wall and places his hands against it.

"I've got nothing. No weapons, see? Unless you'd like to check?"

He turns his head around, one eyebrow raised. I take one step forward, just to let him know that I'm not afraid.

"Go on. You know you want to."

He sounds almost soft spoken, gentle, not playful or teasing. I take another step.

"Come on, don't be scared."

Another step.

"Lauren."

At this, I stop. He speaks my name differently than everything else he's said. He says it with a different tone, still quietly. What scares me is the fact that I like it. I walk over to him, and he smirks. 

"Don't get too excited. This is a routine weapons check. We're supposed to..." I drift off.

"None of the other guards did it." He murmurs to himself.

I none-too-gently push him back so he faces the wall. He chuckles to himself as I search for weapons. As I finish the search, he spins around.

"Told you so."

"What are you doing?" I ask him.

His brow creases in confusion, and he shrugs his shoulders innocently.

"You know what I mean."

That smirk makes another appearance.

"Why I'm talking to you?"

I nod slowly.

"I told you. You're different to them. You interest me. And do you have any idea how long it's been..." It's his turn to step towards me. "Since I've had any fun?"

"_This_ is fun for you."

I get the confused look again.

"This. Committing those crimes. Blackmailing the jurors. All to intimidate that detective. You enjoy this."

He laughs, out loud, not to himself.

"You see? This is why you fascinate me. You _are _a clever one. I knew it. I can spot them faster than I can be acquitted for stealing the crown jewels."

I suddenly realise that this man, who is possibly the most dangerous man in England, will be a free man in a matter of hours. He must see the fear on my face, as he takes the few more steps that separate him and I, and places his hand on my shoulder.

"I'm going to frank with you, Lauren. It would be a shame to put an end to such a mind like yours." He brushes a stray hair from my face. "I like extraordinary people. You have nothing to worry about. From me, anyway."

I feel the adrenaline in my veins, the area where his hand lays on my shoulder is tense. But I can't help but feel...excited? There's something in his eyes. They're not a psychopath's eyes; I've seen enough of them to know what they look like. They are driven. Motivated. Insane? Maybe.

"Do you mind slipping your hand into my pocket one more time?"

This time there's no security guard, no supervisor, nobody to tell me if it's safe or not. But it's too late; gently slide my hand into his pocket. He closes his eyes and grins. "Déjà vu, right?"

I pull out the only object in there, a small rectangular piece of card.

"Do me a favour? Slip that into your pocket. Keep it. You know you'll want it." He flashes that grin once more, then strolls peacefully out of the room, to meet with the guards. To be released. I look at the card...

_James Moriarty_

_Consulting Criminal_

_555 024502- Meetings by appointment only._

I slide the card into the pocket of my jacket. I look around the room, and back out of it, slowly shutting the door behind me.


End file.
